Stroke Of Death
by Whenntooda
Summary: Before he betrayed him, Deadpool left Slade with two vials, one filled with Black liquid, the other with Red. Slade sets out to discover the mystery behind these so-called "weapons." Rated M for language.
1. Chapter I: Otherworldly

****Okay, so you voted, and I wrote it! We return to the story of Slade, aka Deathstroke as he tries to discover the mystery of the weapons Deadpool handed to him before he died(yeah, right).

Yes, I know what I'm doing. I will publish this alongside Kindergarten Titan. I can do both.

Rated M for language.

**Stroke Of Death**

**Chapter I**

**Otherworldly**

**_Six Months Ago..._**

Deadpool dropped Robin down hard into his cage. Slade was surprised to see him in a darker costume, without his cape. Maybe there was still hope for the boy.

"Don't count on it," Wade said, walking up to Slade. "That's just his Nightwing suit."

"Fascinating," Slade said.

"Not as fascinating as what I have to show you," Wade continued. Slade looked at him.

"Something from your universe?" Slade couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. He had explored every avenue of power this world had to offer him. Something new would not go amiss.

Deadpool chuckled.

"Mustn't be so anxious, brother dear," he said, reaching into a bag he kept. He rummaged around in it for a while, muttering under his breath.

"Where are the damn things... I swear, I put them on top... ah, shit!... there they are!"

He pulled out two vials filled with liquid ooze, one red and one black.

"These, my brother," Wade said, "are two of the most powerful weapons in my universe. Don't ask me how I got 'em, trade secret. But I think I'll leave them in your capable hands."

He held them out. Slade grabbed them, but Deadpool hung on to them.

"Two things, first," he said, his voice adopting a serious note. Slade narrowed his eye.

"Conditions?" he asked, his voice dangerous. Wade shook his head.

"Warnings," he answered, not taking his hands off of the vials. "First, do not open them until you are sure you are ready to use them. Hell, I would just yank the top off like nobody's business, and I'm sure you would too, but this is too big to mess with. I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but _safety first!_"

"Very well," Slade said, "though I don't know why you can't tell me yourself."

"Because I don't know myself," Wadey admitted. "I've only ever seen them in action. Biomatter body suits. Unstable. Get 'em checked out."

"Fine," Slade said irritably. "And the second... warning?"

"The second," Wadey said, his voice crackling with suppressed glee, "is to keep them away from Spider-Man. Especially the black one."

He gave the black filled vial a little shake. Slade cocked his head.

"Why?"

"Because he'll either destroy it," Deadpool said, "or it will destroy him."

* * *

**_A Week Later..._**

Slade stared at the two vials on the table. It had been seven days since Deadpool's betrayal, a betrayal that ended in his death. Although, even though he had been an alternate version of his brother, Slade didn't believe Wade was dead for a moment.

But these weapons... what were they? All Wade had told him was that they were biomatter body suits, but what the hell did that mean?

Slade wanted answers. And a guy like him had no problem getting answers.


	2. Chapter II: Secrets Discovered

****And here we continue the adventures of Slade, aka Deathstroke the Terminator!

**Chapter II**

**Secrets Discovered**

"Incredible. Extraordinary. Unbelievable..."

"Doctor, I'm not paying you to mutter incoherently under your breath. What have you discovered?"

Dr. Light, longtime enemy of the Teen Titans, glanced irritably up at Slade.

"You know, I'm not used to working with someone," he said, "much less for them."

"You have never worked for the price I offer," Slade responded. "Talk to me. What are these things?"

Dr. Light may have been a buffoon, and completely useless in battle, but there was no denying his brilliant scientific mind. He turned back to the samples.

"I don't know how you got your hands on these, Slade," he said, his tone becoming more and more awed, "but these are the most advanced form of biomaterial prosthetics I have ever seen."

"Bio pros?" Slade said. "How do you mean?"

"They are body suits," Light explained. "They bond with the host's nervous system, DNA strands, and genetic code. Full symbiosis."

"And then?" Slade asked. "What do they do to the host?"

"They enhance his or her physical abilities," he said. "Super-strength, super-speed, agility, so forth. However, they seem to have psychic memories of a superhuman with spider powers, specifically..." Here his face darkened. "... of that new Teen Titan, Spider-Man."

"They have his powers?" Slade asked, his eye widening. Dr. Light nodded.

"Web shooting, wall-crawling, and an early warning system," he counted off. "Except they appear to be more advanced in these powers than Spider-Man is." He paused for a moment.

"Is that all they do their host?" Slade insisted. "Give them goddamn spider powers?"

"Actually," Light went on, "they have a remarkable healing factor. But their biological history shows that up till a few weeks ago, they were unstable, dangerous. For some reason, they have stabilized." He looked at Slade, his eyes glowing. "Deathstroke, we have the cure for cancer."

Slade was silent for a moment, considering this information.

"The cure for cancer..." he repeated. "Quite a sum of money right there."

"There are a few drawbacks," Light finished. "They enhance the host's emotions, particularly aggression and..." He winked. "Passion."

"Mmm." Slade didn't really care. He knew all he needed to know about these suits now. "Thank you for your time, Doctor." He picked up the samples.

"Wait!" Light protested. "What about my price?"

"Oh, yes," Slade said, appearing to remember. He put the vials into his bag. "What was your question again?"

"You were going to tell me the secret to defeat the Teen Titans," Light reminded him. "How do I do it?"

"Yes, let me show you..."

In one, swift movement, Slade's hands had turned Light's head, not just breaking his neck, but literally removing his skull from his spine. He didn't have time to react.

"Just like that," Slade said, picking up his bag.

* * *

He now stared at the vials, using every inch of the 90% of his brain. Fully matured bio suits that could heal the user of any disease, cancer included, enhancing physical characteristics while giving the host Spider-Man's powers, enhancing emotions at the same time.

Slade had already known much of this from his own tests. The bit about Spider-Man's powers was new, though. And from what Wade had told him, he could guess what it was about.

Spider-Man, Peter Parker, had worn the black suit, which was the older of the two. It was imperfect, and he had rejected it, but not before it had absorbed and retained his powers. The red suit was born of the black, and Slade had detected traces of human blood in the red suit, but the traces drew blanks. He guessed the blood was from Spider-Man, but if he had worn the black suit...?

The more questions he answered, the more answers he wanted. But then a new thought occurred to him.

The Suits contained physical memories of Spider-Man. Perhaps they also had mental remembrances?

For once in Slade's life, he was afraid to experiment. There was only one answer to this question, but it was an alternative he almost didn't want to contemplate.

_Pull yourself together, you bastard, _he thought to himself. _You are the Terminator. _

But still, something held him back.

He seemed frozen for an eternity. But then, his phone rang.

"Wilson," he said, picking it up.

_"Ah, Terminator," _said a mellow, educated voice on the line. _"I have need of your services."_

For once in his life, Slade was pleased to be distracted from what he was doing.

* * *

Can it be? Is something actually scaring Slade? Stay tuned as the plot thickens! Also, this will be another short story. It's more or less just to set the stage for more Slade awesomeness.


	3. Chapter III: A Problematic Solution

****Before I begin, I'd like to respond to Rider Paladin's review. I actually did not know that about Doctor Light. I just knew him as a minor villain, and figured I'd kill him off. Now I'm really glad I killed him... sadistic bastard.

**Chapter III**

**A Problematic Solution**

Slade watched the men carefully. They were all thugs, dressed in dark clothes, shipping drugs out of the country. Slade's job was to destroy everything in sight.

_Gotta love the fact that even the U.S government has need of my services..._

This was going to be a piece of cake. But still...

The bio suits kept nagging at the back of his mind. He leapt down, beginning to blow up everything.

As he swept his golden sword down on the neck of a man carrying a box, he thought more about what made him so afraid of the suits.

_Trigon. That's it. I've dealt with things from other dimensions before... and I've come out on top._

But the Terror of Trigon had been very real, very visceral... almost too much so. That must explain his hesitation.

He unleashed a cacophony of flash-bangs, working his way through the smoke, striking here and there. Blood hung heavy in the air as he worked.

_Why don't I cut loose like this all the time? Why do I ever let the Titans get the better of me?_

Perhaps it was because they were better than he. It was a disturbing thought.

_I'm the best there is. Maybe I'm losing my grip._

_ Maybe it's time to retire._

His retirement prospects would have to wait, however. A man opened up with a Gatling stored away in the back of a truck. Slade grimaced.

"That's unexpected," he mumbled. "But not quite."

He jumped, landing on the other side of the truck. He dropped frag grenades underneath and leapt clear.

It exploded with a large fire and smoke. Slade stopped for a moment to observe his handiwork.

That was a mistake.

A bullet came out of nowhere to hit him straight in the back of the neck. Slade's head jerked forward and pain made his vision blur.

"Agh!" he gasped. "Shit!"

He turned around, swiftly ending the life of his would-be killer. However, would-be was about to turn into will-be.

Slade felt life ebb out of him as surely as the blood ran. He needed to get home.

* * *

"Guh!" he gasped, slumping over his desk. His blood covered hands stained the woodwork, but that was the least of his worries. "Damn, damn, damn..."

Everything was spinning. His vision was blurry and dark. Soon he would die, the physical damage was too great...

Physical... physical damage... he had felt it before... but there was a cure... an answer... one he wouldn't contemplate in other situations...

Slowly, painfully, Slade reached for the suits. He paused, then felt he would go the whole way.

He grabbed the top off of the red vial, and put two fingers in.

The moment his fingers touched the cold goo-like substance, it sprang to life, jumping all over him, tentacles everywhere, wrapping themselves around him. He didn't scream... he laughed. A cold, deep laugh that told of joy unbounded in being alive.

Finally it stopped. His bullet wound was gone. And for the first time in decades, Slade opened both his eyes.

He gasped. The raw power... the enhanced vision... He looked at himself in front of a mirror.

The orange that had been on his costume was now blood red. He had black armor, and his mask was half black, half red. But both sides had eyes, large white eyes.

He felt a welter of memories that were not his own, but he didn't feel like perusing them. All he felt like doing was destroying the bastards who had dared to try and kill him. His contract with the U.S. government had been fulfilled. But now he wanted to find the entire narcotics gang, the Azulas, and wipe them out.

From the sea of memory the suit contained, one name in particular stood out. It was a name Slade liked.

_Carnage._


	4. Chapter IV: Maximum Slade

****Sorry I've been away for a while. The shit hit the fan, and I was all over the place. But here I am, presenting the penultimate chapter in Slade's Story!

Also, check out my profile page, as I have now put out there a list of upcoming stories in the Ultimate Teen Titans series. Check it out!

**Chapter IV**

**Maximum Slade**

Slade marveled at his new abilities. It had taken him no time at all to locate the Azulas' base, and now he hung to the ceiling of a conference room, watching a lot of the top members enter for a meeting.

The boss, Alfred Alonzo, stood at the head while the rest took their seats.

"Gentlemen," he said, a smug grin on his face. "We have just lost Shipment Thirteen."

A few of the leaders made faces.

"Why are you so happy, then?" one of them asked Alonzo. His grin deepened.

"Because in doing so," he said slowly, "we killed the Terminator."

Everyone gasped. Some applauded. Slade snarled, but no one heard it.

"Yes, Deathstroke the Terminator is deceased," Alonzo continued. "I don't think it's beneath us to take a moment to enjoy that."

"Well, it's beneath me."

Slade dropped down onto the conference table, cracking it in half. Everyone reacted with shock. Slade stood up.

"Deathstroke?" Alonzo said, a ghastly look on his face. "H-how!?"

"The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Slade said, his voice rolling over the room. "And don't think you can escape..." he added, as some of the men tried to run for the exit. "You won't get out. Alive, that is."

He shot a tendril of his new suit which became a web that blocked the door. The Azula Leaders turned around, fear etched on their faces. Many of them pulled out guns and began shooting him.

Slade merely laughed as his suit absorbed the bullets. He began talking again.

"You know, I wouldn't be here normally," he said, taking the gunfire. "Even if I hadn't been shot. My contract was completed. But, y'know... you had to go and piss me off. That was a mistake. So..."

The suit began rolling, and suddenly, dozens of tentacles came shooting out of his body, stabbing everyone in the room. There were a few cries of pain, but in a moment, there was silence.

"Good," Slade said, retracting the tentacles. "We'll start from here."

* * *

The blood ran thick and fast as Slade tore into the henchmen of the Azulas. He wanted none alive, none to escape his wrath. He knew he was doing the world a favor, so that must make him a superhero.

He laughed at the irony.

Two men tried to blow him up with RPGs. Slade dodged each of the missiles easily, and ripped the men's arms out, impaling four other men with the appendages.

A lot of the Azulas, horrified, turned and ran. A few stayed to fight. Slade respected their courage, and made their deaths swift. As for the cowards...

Decapitation was favored, but he also specialized in ripping their innards out. The brutality wasn't professional, nor very wise, but for once, Slade indulged in the gore and death.

Pain shot through his head, specifically his right eye. He clutched his head.

"What the hell?" he asked aloud. He looked around, noticing that all of the Azulas were dead. But his eye really hurt, as did his neck.

It then occurred to him that his suit was working overtime to heal him from his gun wounds and other hurts. His head began to swim, and he fell to his knees.

The world turned under him, but he still hung on. The suit began trying to destroy his mind, tried to gain more access to his psyche, but he wouldn't let it. It began working against him.

_No, dammit. I am the master. I am the Terminator. You will do what I fucking say, what I command!_

It was a long struggle, back and forth. Memories of Slade's life came up, and memories of Spider-Man surfaced. He sifted through them, trying to regain control.

It went on, and on, and on...

* * *

Slade sat in his office later, staring at the vial of red liquid.

He had managed to remove it from him, and now he was healing from his neck shot by his own, and his eye had gone. But he didn't miss it.

_I was greedy. Sloppy. And I almost paid the price. Almost._

Slade now knew that he could never wear the suit again. But he didn't want to give up the power.

An idea occurred to him. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it before.

* * *

And what is Slade's idea? Stay tuned for the final chapter of this story and find out!


	5. Chapter V: Secrets Revealed

****This is the final chapter of this story! Before I begin, I'd like to point out that there may have been some physical impossibilities with the last chapter. Well, it's Slade with the Carnage suit. Nothing is impossible.

Check out my profile page to see upcoming Ultimate Teen Titans episodes!

**Chapter V**

**Secrets Revealed**

Tom Harrison sat in his office in the White House late at night. He was still waiting for a call from Deathstroke reporting a mission success.

Because the Terminator never failed a contract. Never.

He still shuddered at the necessity of using a mercenary like that. But the Azulas had been ripping Washington apart, and the government's hands were tied. This one shipment would have sent half the population of D.C. into an addicted state.

The phone rang. Harrison picked it up.

_"Mr. Harrison? There's a Mr... uh, Deathstroke, on the line."_

"Put him through," Harrison said quickly. "Terminator? How went the mission?"

There was silence for a moment. Harrison waited, a feeling or trepidation forming.

_"It went well," _came the Terminator's voice. _"I destroyed the shipment. You'll be hearing about it in the news." _There was a pause. _"I also destroyed the entire Azula clan. You won't have to worry about Alfred Alonzo or the rest anymore." _

Harrison felt a jolt in his stomach.

"What?" he whispered. He heard laughter. "That wasn't part of your contract!"

_"Don't worry, Mr. Secretary," _Deathstroke said. _"I won't bill you. It was... a decision on my part. All you owe me is the fee we agreed upon. But you will owe me in future."_

"'Owe you?!'" Harrison repeated. "How?"

_"There's a certain phone number you have in your contact list," _Deathstroke said. _"Never mind how I know it. It begins with eight-five-one. You know the one I mean?"_

"How... yes, I know the one."

_"Good. Put in a good word for me, will you? See you."_

Harrison heard a click as the Terminator hung up. He felt cold sweat on his upper lip as he put the phone on the receiver. He considered what he had just heard.

Harrison picked the phone up again, ringing up the number that the Terminator had mentioned. He waited while it rang. Finally, someone answered.

"Hi, put me through to your boss," he said hastily. "I need to speak to him, _now._" He waited a few more minutes, then he heard, _"yes, Harrison?"_

"Mr. Luther?" he said, trying to keep his voice even. "There's something I need to tell you about..."

* * *

Slade sat in his office, staring at the vials. Now he wasn't thinking of questions. He was reflecting of the memories the suit had shown him.

Spider-Man's entire life up until his battle with the one called Gladiator. It was all bared before Slade. It perhaps wasn't enough, but it showed Slade clearly what Spider-Man was made of.

_Spider-Man... Peter Parker. He is made of stronger stuff than Robin, or Terra. Too strong to turn, perhaps. But then, we all have our breaking points. And certainly, he missed Aunt May, and Mary Jane, and all of the rest... that could be his shatterpoint._

Slade remembered Spider-Man's recollection of the crushing grip of the Green Goblin, Norman Osborne. Osborne had apparently killed Spider-Man, just as he himself had perished. That could also be a weapon.

But he wanted to know more. He needed to know more about Spider-Man, the final months of his life, the turning points.

The memory of Venom, however, was vivid and strong. And that was where Slade would start.

The buzzer on Slade's desk went off. He pressed a button.

"Yes, Wintergreen?"

_"Sir, the young man you asked to see is here."_

"Show him in."

The door opened, and in walked Wintergreen, followed by a tall young man dressed in drab clothes, completely nondescript except for the red mask that covered his entire head.

"The Red Hood, sir," Wintergreen announced, before leaving. Slade gestured Hood to sit down.

"So, you're the Robin reject," Slade said. Hood laughed.

"More like, arch-nemesis," he said. His voice had a tinge of the Joker's insanity about it, due to his long time in tutelage under him. "But words are meaningless."

"So I'll cut to the chase then," Slade said, holding the red vial up. "How'd you like to destroy the Teen Titans utterly? How'd you like to become Carnage?"

Slade saw a smile curl the edges of the mask. He was hooked. Things were going very well indeed.

* * *

Thank you, and good night.


End file.
